Curious?
by Svendances
Summary: Sometimes, curiosity is a good thing. Sometimes, it's a not so good thing. The problem is, telling which situation is which. Find out what happens when human curiosity and will power are put to the test. Cupcake probably, but no Babes were harmed.
1. Chapter 1

_This story has been buzzing around inside my head for some time now and I've finally taken the initiative to get out of the dark, airy space in my cranium and onto the screen. Take a gander. Hope you like it._

**Curious?**

Human curiosity. The natural inquisitiveness of Homo sapiens. Or is that Homo sapien sapien? The undeniable urge to investigate, explore, ask questions. That's the only thing that kept me from ripping open the box that currently sat on my coffee table. Sounds wrong, I know. Logic would have it that human curiosity would be the reason for opening the box on first sight. This is the case with most people. It's the reason that if you have something you want to hide, the last place to put it is in a box with a lid, an envelope, under something, behind something, etc. Trying to conceal something just increases the chance of the person you're keeping it from finding it. The laws of curiosity dictate quite clearly that boxes must be opened. I, however, was trying to prove a point.

Last Friday night my boyfriend and I got into an argument. That's not breaking news, as I'm sure you're well aware. Arguments between me and the man I'm ninety-eight per cent sure I love are common place. They happen almost as often as I wash my hair. Maybe there's a connection there. Maybe I should try not washing my hair. Either way, the result is that I have absolutely no clue as to where the miscommunication started, my job probably, but ended with a very loud exclamation that I was too curious for my own good. This was quickly followed by him telling me that curiosity ruled my life and was going to kill me one day. Now if that comment had come from his grandmother I might have taken it seriously and gone and filled out a job application at the button factory right then and there, but it hadn't. No, the comment had come from Joe's mouth. The very same mouth that had been telling me I was a screw up at my job ever since I started. So I was mostly inclined to let it slide, like water of a ducks back. Mostly.

The next morning, I was eating my Frosted Flakes, when there was a knock at the door of my apartment. When I opened it, slightly disgruntled at the interruption of my favourite pass time, I was met with nothing. Nothing but thin air and the faint aroma of old people. The old people smell didn't bother me anymore, it was just one of the many hazards of living in low rent accommodation. Old people populated every other apartment in the building. My problem now, was with the lack of life in the hall. Maybe I was imagining things.

I went back to my cereal, but had barely swallowed my first bite when there was another knock at the door. Second verse same as the first, I thought when I stuck my head out into the still empty hall. Probably, I was losing my mind. It had been a long time coming, after all. The truly horrific part of that concept, however, was not that my mind was slowly fizzling into mush, but that I couldn't remember where I put the card for the psychologist my sister suggested when I turned twenty-one.

"This isn't funny," I told the old person smell. "Either stick around and show yourself or lay off." I waited a moment but no one faded out of the woodwork... I mean... cement block, so I once again returned to my breakfast.

The spoon hadn't even reached my mouth this time before the knock came. With scream of frustration, I stomped back to the damned door. Boxes and envelopes are not the only things that inspire generous amounts of curiosity, mystery knockers are a big supplier also. You probably worked that out already, though.

When I wrenched open the door this time I noticed a scrawled message on the wall across the hall. It was written in what appears to be black permanent marker.

**"**_**Humans are the top of the food chain  
They feel superior to all others  
And rarely look below their noses!"**_

I read it thrice and still didn't understand it. I looked below my nose all the time. How else was I going to check that no snot had leaked out? Because believe me, with the amount of times I get zapped in a day, it's a constant possibility, and it terrified me. Shrugging my shoulders, I went back inside for a third time to my soggy food. Having learned my lesson, I didn't even bother to sit down, but simply picked up the bowl and began shovelling in the sodden, sugary goodness. By the time I had finished slurping up the milk dregs I had all but forgotten my mystery knocker as I mentally planned out my day.

The bowl was rinsed and on the sink side drying and I was on my way to get dressed when the knock came one last time. I thrust the door open, looking left and right in a final ditch attempt to find my annoyer, and noted the addition to the text on the wall:

**"**_**We never look above head height either,  
But that's beside the point.  
LOOK DOWN!"**_

I obeyed the graffiti and glanced down at the utilitarian grey carpet, only it wasn't the carpet that I was looking at, it was a mirror, about a foot square sitting in the middle of the floor. It was angled toward me slightly and I noticed an object in its reflection. I immediately jerked my head back to locate it. The hot pink box swung gently from side to side on a string attached to the roof. Ducking quickly inside to grab a chair and a pair of scissors, I climbed up and retrieved the package. I waited until I was safely back on solid floor before ripping off the card and reading it. I trust my balance to a certain degree, but staying upright on an old hand-me-down chair with legs that were all different lengths was pushing it a bit far. The handwriting was identical to that on the wall and spelled out five simple words:

**"_Not until I say 'When'"_**

That's all it said. No signature, no nothing. The mystery doubled, as did the apprehension. This could be a prank, or it could be a stalker. With that frightening thought in mind I scrambled into the relative safety of my home, locked, dead bolted and chained the door, and jammed the chair up under the handle. At least no any danger had a few obstacles to get past before reaching me. That was a plus. Right?

With a quick glance down at my brightly coloured box and its inviting lime green bow, I suddenly realised that there was a rathe high chance that it could contain a bomb. I raised it to my ear and listened intently for a moment, but couldn't hear anything but the buzzing in my head and the whirring of the refrigerator, working away to keep it's insides cool despite the fact that it only held three cans of beer a couple of batteries and a roll of cookie dough. I really shouldn't have allowed the thought of a bomb to cross my mind, it only fed my curiosity and kick started my paranoia, and of course, my good friend fear.

Cautiously, yet as fast as I could manage, I padded into the bathroom and set the could-be-bomb on the vanity. At least if it blew up in here I would definitely get a bathroom redecoration. The vomit colours were starting to get to me.

After quickly getting dressed and throwing my unruly curls into a misshaped pony tail, I returned to the bathroom and stared at the box between sporadic bursts of makeup application. I was itching to know what was inside. Physically itching. Stopping the persistent scratching of my forearms, I glanced down and noticed I had a rash. So maybe some my curiosity was actually physical itching. I'll never know, though, because at that moment the phone rang and Lula was telling me to get my 'skinny white ass' down to the parking lot so we could get the day over with.

Sunday morning I walked into the bathroom for a shower and noticed another card attached to the box. This freaked me out just, oh, I don't know, _a lot_. It hadn't been there late last night when I'd come home. I know because I checked on it to make sure it had really happened. That meant that someone had to have come in while I was sleeping. I shuddered at the thought and ripped off the card.

**"_Curiosity killed the cat."_**

Was that a threat? I'm not sure. All I knew was that if I hadn't been scared before, I was definitely scared now. Seriously pissing-my-pants terrified. If I was interpreting the message correctly, it meant that if I opened the box I would be dead. Sure, it was a good way to deter a regular person, I'm not sure my curiosity gland understood the message. I still really wanted to know what was hidden within the pretty pink cardboard walls of the box. The result had me sitting on the edge of the bathtub for several hours more, only ceasing my obsession briefly when the phone rang.

"Yeah? I said by way of greeting. My eyes were still glancing toward the box every five seconds despite my effort to concentrate solely on the voice at the other end of the line.

"What are you doing, Babe?" Amusement was clear in his voice, but I dug deeper into his tone and came up with a glimmer of concern.

"Staring at my mystery box," I promptly replied. Surely he could see that. He had cameras all over my apartment.

"I can see that," he confirmed, "but why?"

Personally, I thought the answer was obvious, but he'd asked, so I felt obliged to reply, or suffer the consequences, whatever they may be. "Because I really want to know what's inside," I told him, almost stopping myself from adding, "Duh." I couldn't help it.

"So why don't you?" he asked, ever the logical man.

I sighed. This is the part where I dive into an explanation of Friday's argument and he makes sounds that make me think I didn't need to repeat the whole thing because he'd heard every word during the actual argument. Knowing my luck, he had. "... and then this morning it had another not that read 'Curiosity killed the cat,' but I still _really_ want to open it, so I've been staring at it hoping it will open by sheer force of will," I finished lamely.

There was a short silence on the other end of the phone and I suspected her was trying to control the urge to laugh at me. Finally, he returned to himself and said, "Hold in there, Babe." Then he was gone and I was left feeling slightly stupid holding a reversing truck up to my ear.

Before I even had a chance to put the phone down it was ringing again. The unfortunate thing was that I had returned my attention to the pink mystery in my bathroom and nearly fallen over with shock when I saw yet another card attached to the damned thing. At first I thought I was seeing things, but I moved back towards it, ringing phone clutched firmly in my left hand, and picked up the folded card stock. I realised that my eyes were not deceiving me after all. The card was real. With trembling fingers I opened it, sill wondering how it could have gotten there. I'd only taken my eyes off the box for a moment or two at the most.

**"_Curious?_"**

I felt like writing a note in reply and sticking it to the box myself. It would have said, "Of course I'm bloody well curious you dick wad! Curious is my natural state! It's my middle name! If I weren't curious I'd be dead! And apparently my curiosity is going to kill me anyway. There's no winning!" But I refrained. Something told me that if I left that note that box would be taken away and I would never know what's inside. As stupid as it sounded, that thought scared me more that the threat of death ever had. _I needed to know what the devil was hidden beneath that lid._

The phone had stopped ringing, I noted absently, and for a moment I felt guilty for not answering it, but then I figured that if it was important they'd find a way to read me eventually. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than my cell phone began to chirrup from the dining room table where I had dumped it upon my return home the night before. I checked the caller ID read out. Morelli.

"Mmm?" I mmm-ed.

"I have the night," he informed me. "Where are you?"

"My place," I said, diligently _not_ staring at the box to see if I'd discover another note when I looked back.

"I just called your place. You didn't pick up."

"I was distracted and didn't make it in time." I took a chance and poked my head into the bathroom, gasping involuntarily when I saw the fresh note. I just couldn't see how it was possible that the note had gotten there with my noticing it. Quickly snatching it up, as if it would disappear if I didn't, IU ran my eyes over the picture of a grandfather clock on the front, None of the others had pictures that I'd noticed. I pulled them all out of the draw where I'd stashed them just to make sure, but I was right, not a picture to be seen. Opening the card, I realised that Joe was still on the phone.

"Steph? He was saying. "Are you still there? I heard you gasp, is everything alright?"

"Hold on a second," I told him, and hurriedly read my new message.

**"**_**Tick tock tick tock.  
Time is passing.  
But is your curiosity going with it?"**_

I gave a growl of frustration and picked up the phone again. "What was that?" came Joe's worried voice before I had a chance to speak. "Is everything okay? What's going on?"

"Everything's fine," I replied stiffly. "So you have the night off What did you have in mind?"

There was a pause before his answer. "I'll be over soon and then we'll see what we can some up with," he suggested. "I'll see you in ten."

I also said goodbye, but found that I did so to dead air. What was it with the men in my life and not waiting for me to speak? Glancing down at myself I remembered that I had not yet taken the shower I had originally gone in there for all those hours ago. And so, ten minutes later I was covered in soap suds, standing under the spray of water with the curtain drawn back so I could keep an eye on the box. That's when Morelli decided to break into my apartment. Either he sniffed me out, or heard the shower running, but he found me in the situation I just described. Needless to say a huge grin spread across his face as his face as his eyes roved over every inch of my body hungrily.

"I see you started without me," he murmured, untucking his shirt and pulling it over his head. As he reached for his belt I turned off the water, wrapped myself in a plush purple towel I had swiped from my mother's hall closet. The smile faded from existence and a confused frown took it's place. "What are you doing? Why are you covering up your deliciously soft, silky smooth skin" He followed me, utterly perplexed, to the bedroom where I threw on a generic little black dress and four inch black pumps. As I fixed my hair into a semi-respectable arrangement of natural curls with minimal frizz he exclaimed, "I get it! We're gonna play."

"No," I told him, "You're taking me to dinner." I swiped on some mascara. "It's going to be your way of apologising for the other night."

"I don't get it," he deadpanned. "Am I supposed to get overwhelmed and strip you before we make it to the door?"

I stopped what I was doing and glared at him for a moment. A quick glance down at the lipsticks in my hand was enough to make my decision. I coloured my lips a pale pink, dropped the stick in my handbag, grabbed Joe's wrist and dragged him back to the bathroom. He made excited sounds the entire way. _Time to squash his hopes and dreams. _I pointed to the box, which thankfully had not spontaneously grown another tag in the tie it had taken me to get dressed. Minutes passed as he continually glanced from me to the box and back again, a confused look on his face. "Did you do this?" I asked just as he opened his mouth to say something.

Like a fish out of water, his jaw flapped around uselessly for a moment. "I've never seen that before in my life," he said when he finally regained control. "Why?"

Rather than explain the whole situation straight away, I directed his attention to the four notes, still spread out on the counter and waited patiently to read each one. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. I couldn't believe it. He found this amusing! There was a possible threat on my head – yet again – and he was fighting the urge to laugh at me.

"What?" I demanded, regaining his attention. "What's tickling your funny bone?"

He coughed, probably to cover up his chuckle, and shook his head. When he raised his eyes to meet mine again he was suddenly completely sober. "Dinner," he said. "My treat. Where ever you want, no matter the price."

I had to admit, I was completely thrown by such a massive turn about, but the idea of having a nice meal with Joe was too tempting for words. It had been months since we has spent any special time together that didn't involve a bed or a couch... or that one time in the SUV. My mind was made up instantly, of course. Where does any girl want to go with their partner when he's the one paying? Rossini's of course. Number one restaurant in the world... or at least in that suburb. I grabbed my purse from the kitchen bench and was about to leave when I remembered the box. Quickly, and with great care not to let Joe see, I hit speed dial one. I couldn't let Morelli know that he was number two on the speed dial below Rangeman, it was just too big an argument starter, especially now when we were on our way to dinner.

"You're live on air," came Bobby's voice. "What's the drama you wanna share?"

"Rangeman has full surveillance of my apartment, right?" I asked, cutting right to the thick of it.

"Yes indeedy," he replied. His statement was quickly followed by an _ooph. _"I mean, affirmative."

"Including the bathroom?" I tried to say it as quietly as possible so that Joe couldn't hear but Bobby could; but it was impossible. The man in front of me glared and clenched his fists at his side. Bobby was silent on the other end, obviously uncomfortable with having to answer the question. "You're not going to get in trouble," I told him. "I just need to know."

"Yes ma'am," he gritted out reluctantly. "That is an affirmative."

"Is that monitored all the time?"

Another silence and this time I felt slightly uncomfortable as well. "Negative," he finally croaked. "The cameras are recording 24/7 but are only monitored if there is a threat on your head. Only the boss and Tank have the access code."

"I need someone to monitor the bathroom footage while I'm out," I informed him. "Specifically, the box on the counter."

"I'm not authorized to pass that request," he said, and I noted his voice was back to normal.

"Well patch me through to Ranger then," I suggested.

"He's out on a consult at the moment, ma'am."

I sighed. This ma'am crap was really eating away at me. Ma'ams are old people. I'm not old. "Cut the ma'am crap and put Tank on."

"Tank has retired for the evening." I made a menacing growl sound in the back of my throat and he quickly added, "But I can get in contact with him if you like."

"Please," I agreed, and promptly hung up before he could.

The only option I had was to watch the box until I gained confirmation that someone else was. It was the only way to find out who was getting the new tags in place without me noticing. My logical side told me that it was impossible. I'd only ever glanced away momentarily, but the rest of me was screaming that something big was coming.

My cell rang again. Tank.

"Just checking the story Bobby fed me," he greeted. "You want someone to watch the box on your bathroom counter while you're out?"

"Indeed."

"May I ask why?" So I told him the story, making sure not to leave a single detail out. When I was done he was silent for so long that I thought I'd lost him, but then he spoke up. "I'll come over and monitor the box in person."

* * *

_Still to come on "Curious?": Will Tank really watch the box in person? Will Steph manage to leave the box behind and focus on a nice evening out with her man? Who's behind the box fiasco anyway? What's in it? How do the notes get to the box without a noticeable body to put them there? _

_**Review if you want to find out. And remember:** It's all fun and games until somebody starts to get serious._


	2. Chapter 2

_Still curious? Well, so am I. Which is why my mind thought up this chapter during one of those infamous yawn-fest uni lectures. Cheers_

**Chapter 2**

I was feeling exceptionally proud of myself by the time I was finishing scraping up the last skerrick of whipped cream from my dessert plate. Not once had I even thought about the mystery box. Okay, that's a lie, as I'm sure you've all assumed, but just because I had thought about the damn box one or two (or twenty seven) times throughout the evening did not mean that Joe and I weren't capable of having a perfectly wonderful time. I tried pushing the box to the back of my mind, but due to an intense fear that they would fall out the back of my skull if pushed too far back, the thoughts seemed to linger, distractingly, in the middle of my mind. I'm sure Joe was aware of every single time the thoughts broke into the foreground, if not because of the semi-vacant expression on my face then by the fact that I would stop abruptly in the middle of a sentence. Once or twice in the middle of a word. So it was safe to say that while the overall concept of having a nice meal together was an extremely pleasant one, the timing and execution of the event could use a bit of work... Okay... a lot of work.

As I considered the amount of times I had cheated on my resolve to not think about the mystery box, the pride I had been feeling quickly dissipated. The last straw for Joe, I think, was when he came back from the men's room to find me mid-text to Tank. After that, all pretence of pleasantness flew out the proverbial window.

"Are you done?" Joe asked me, managing, to my amazement, to keep the irritation I knew he was feeling out of his voice. I nodded that I was and he made his way over to the counter to pay the bill. When he returned he simply picked up my coat and started toward the exit. "Your mind has been preoccupied all night," he stated as he opened the passenger side door for me. That gesture alone surprised me, Joe had never been one to adhere to society's recommended behavioural patterns (see: our first "train ride" together). Once he was behind the wheel he continued down the train of thought I knew better than to interrupt. "Doesn't this just prove to you everything that I said Friday night? You can't even make it through a simple with me without obsession over that stupid box."

In an attempt to lighten the very serious angry mood Joe had created I said the only thing I could think of at the time. "Admit it. You're curious too." The massively long silence that followed this gave way to a myriad of more suitable responses. "I'm sorry. I'll try harder in the future," for example, or even a plain old, "Sorry," with nothing else attached woul have been better. As it was, however, I could not get a refund on my words, let alone an exchange. If only I had kept my reciet.

We were half way home when the silence was finally broken. Not by ewither one of us directly, but by the sound of my cell phone vibrating on the dash of the car, where I had absent mindedly place it upon entering. I reached for it, but Joe was quicker.

"What?" he snarled at the caller as he pulled up at a red light. After a moment of listening he spoke again. Make that snapped again. "You're paranoid. And delusional. How could someone possibly sneak in and place another note in the time it took you to walk to the fridge and back?"

My heart jolted at the mention of yet another note and I instantaneously forgot everything I had learned over the time I'd known Joe and interrupted his conversation. "What does it say?" I asked urgently.

He whipped his head around to glare at me while taking a corner on two wheels. "It's addressed to you, Cupcake, Tank isn't going to open and read it."

"I don't care!" I exclaimed in desperation. "Tell him to open it! I need to know!"

In case you were wondering, yes, I was acutely aware of how pathetic I was sounding. The pouting and puppy dog eyes, when combined with my plea, probably would have been amusing, if this were a movie setting and had nothing to do with me. Real life, on the other hand, just wasn't that funny. Just as I was about to sell my soul for the contents of the note, Joe slammed the phone shut and put it in his pocket. The one I couldn't reach.

As I did a mighty fine impression of a fish, my darling man informed me that I would get my phone back when we reached the parking lot of my building. Seven and a half agonising minutes later, he slowed to a stop at the curb, undid my seatbelt and pulled me toward him so that I was practically straddling the gearshift. My face was cradled in his hands, mere inches from his own. I could have sworn there was an African tribal dance going on in the back seat for all the drumming that was pounding through my chest and ears. He kissed me and it was the dancing in the back seat grew into a frenzy. If I could actually see said dance, I would imagine this would be the part were they would be jumping over the fire. Scary stuff.

When he finally released me a million years later, or maybe it was only a couple of seconds, he smiled and handed me the phone from his pocket. "Try not to imitate the cat," he suggested, and leaned over me to open my door. I stared at him through my post-pash-fog for a long enough that he took pity on me and explained, "Curiosity killed the cat, remember?"

I sighed. "Yeah, I've hear that somewhere before."

Upstairs I dumped my stuff in the hall and raced to the bathroom. Tank was there, staring intensely at the box, as were Lester, Bobby, Cal, Zero, Hal, Hector, and Sanchez. Apparently word had spread around about my magical, mystical, annoying-ical box with the mysteriously appearing tags. I squeezed my way into the tiny overcrowded room and sat down on one of the guys' laps; I'd tell you which one, but I wasn't paying enough attention to them to notice.

"What did it say?" I demanded.

"The cop didn't tell you? Tank asked. Not eye contact was made, we were all staring at the box.

"No, I assumed you weren't willing to open it because it was for me."

"We work in security, Beautiful," Lester said from close behind me, making me believe it was his lap on which I was perched. "Nothing is sacred."

I jiggled about uncomfortably for a moment. "Just tell me what it said." Somebody handed me a small piece of cardstock but I didn't look at it. "Voices, people. I know you all memorised it."

As always happens when something like this comes up, everyone started speaking at once. Fortunately for me, the men were so in tune with each other's thoughts that they began to recite the message in unison.

_Time is dwindling down the drain  
With it goes your anguished refrain  
Know that only one's in pain  
Better this than gone insane._

It could have just been the overall tone of the message itself, or maybe it was the stereo of all the male voices echoing in the bathroom, but I was feeling really bad about what was in the box. A chill ran down my spine, causing me to shiver slightly. Lester's hand came up and began rubbing my upper arm. After that, not much happened. Nobody took their eyes from the box and nobody spoke a word. I can't speak for the guys, but I was trying not to blink on the ofrf chance that everyone else in the room blinked at the exact same time, thereby creating a window, albeit a tiny one, for the note leaver to strike again. At this point I wouldn't put it past him... or her... although judging by the handwriting, I was more inclined to say it was a him. Not that I could talk, my handwriting was worse than chicken scrawl most of the time.

Everything was going so well until Hal's pager went off and everyone turned to stare at him. Sheepishly, he snatched a glance at the screen and excused himself from the room. The most disappointing part in this turn of events was that when I returned my gaze to the box there was another note. I almost wept with frustration as Tank handed me the little slip of paper.

_Answer the door._

I looked around the room at the guys' collective expression of perplexity. They shrugged in confusion and I jumped as a knock sounded through the apartment. Everyone of the so-called ex-mil men pointed at me with wide eyes and shaking fingers. _No volunteers then._

I carefully picked my way through the thicket... stand? ... of buff men and out of the bathroom. As I reached the door to the bedroom I noticed Hal standing in the hall, his phone to his ear. I didn't catch the conversation he was having, but the easy going body language told me that it wasn't work related. I passed him silently and he made the "I've got my eyes on you" gesture, which made me feel a bit more secure. Remembering household safety 101, I peeked through the peep hole, but the corridor, as far as I could tell, was empty. I took a deep breath and was about to open the door when the lock clicked and it swung open.

There, in all his hot, man-of-mystery glory, stood Ranger, dressed in a black-on-black suit with cuff links in the shape of hand-cuffs. These had been my idea of a joke. Each Trenton Rangeman had received a pair from me for Christmas the previous year, including Louis. Ella got bracelet with a handcuff shaped charm and I wore my own on a necklace.

Just as I opened my mouth to greet him a shout drifted out from the bathroom. I glanced toward it, then back at Ranger, and repeated the action a couple more times. "Hold that thought," I finally suggested and jogged back to the assembled men. I stared at them all, waiting for an explanation. They all stared back at me. As if by some unspoken, invisible cue they all did that creepy stereo voice thing again.

"I blinked and this appeared," they all said at once, gesturing to the small envelope Tank held. I waded through them all once more and snatched it from his hand. With trembling fingeres I slid the card out and turned it over. The guys were all crowded in behind me to see and a collective gasp emmited from all of us. There, in the same scratchy writing as all the others was the one word I had been waiting for for almost forty-eight hours.

_When._

_**Don't forget to drop in a review.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry it's taken so long for me to update. I almost completely forgot about this story until about three days ago when I was terribly, terribly bored and looking for something to do. So here it is._

_**Chapter 3**_

IT was time to put all the speculations in my head to rest and open the damn box. Looking around the room all eyes were on me. I averted my gaze to the vanity and the box, but was distracted by my cell phone vibrating next to it where I had inadvertently dropped it upon entering. The caller ID told me it was Joe.

"Joe!" I exclaimed in exasperation as I answered. "I was about to put an end to all this madness. What do you want?"

"I forgot to ask you something at dinner," he explained. "But I can wait a moment so that I have your full attention. Open the box."

The phone still clamped to my ear by shoulder, I reached over and pulled the ribbon off. Next came the lid and I suddenly noticed Ranger kneeling on the floor in front of me. I gave him a quizzical look, but guessed he was just trying to get a better view, as he almost smiled back. Joe got impatient at the very moment I worked up enough courage to look inside. "Sorry, I can't wait a moment longer," he said as I pulled out the small velvet covered box and opened it.

"Will you marry me?"

For a moment I thought it had just been the natural echo of the tiled room, but soon realised Joe's voice wouldn't echo because the phone wasn't loud enough. I looked down at the mad in front of m e to find his dark eyes riveted on my face as if he was waiting for something. _Holy shit..._ This could not be happening! Things like this don't happen in real life. Do they? Wait a second, I didn't think the unison blinking thing would happen in real life either, and look where that got me. Paddling up stream in a barbed wire canoe with two simultaneous marriage proposals as my oars. And I think I was going around in ever quickening circles.

"What?" I asked, not of anyone in particular. At this point I'd take an explanation from one of the muppets.

"Marry me, Babe," Ranger said at the very same moment Joe reiterated, "I want to be with you forever."

I'm not exactly sure of the events that followed, but I have a very strong feeling that I fainted. The sights I was met with when I slit my eyes open had me disoriented to say the least. Everything was slanted the wrong way and I was looking from the wrong angle. There were legs like three trunks about two feet away from my shoulder. I followed them up... And up...And up... Until I found the face staring down at me. Tank.

"Next time you faint give us some warning," he told me. He crouched down so that he didn't seem quite so intimidating. "How are you?"

I hadn't exactly taken the time to survey the state of my body, so I blurted the first thing that came to mind. "What was in the velvet box?"

He smiled a little at that, but shook his head. "Ranger wouldn't let anyone touch it. You gave us all quite a scare when you went down. You're lucky I've got good reflexes or you might have brained yourself on the counter."

I groaned at that, remembering the proposals and squeezed my eyes shut again hoping it would all be gone by the times I opened them. No such luck. Tank was still staring down at me when I next viewed the world around me, and damn if he wasn't looking amused. "Where is Ranger?" I asked. May as well get the hard, scary questions out of the way first.

This caused Tank to look a little uncomfortable. "He, um, went to... calm down?" The question in his voice and the hesitation of his words had me immediately upright. My head was spinning, but I could over look that small detail. Tank, apparently, could not though, as he put a hand on my shoulder urging me back down onto the floor. "Take it easy Steph, you hit your head on the way down, we don't want you falling over again."

"Where's he gone to calm himself down, Tank? He's gone to pay a visit to Joe, hasn't he?" I was working myself into a panic, thinking of what could have, and probably did happen after I'd fainted. Knowing Ranger, he'd have plucked the phone from my hand and demanded an explanation from Joe. Joe would have been all hoity-toity about it and Ranger would have gotten angry. What happened from there was anyone guess, but I hoped he didn't lose his temper and make haste to kill Joe, I don't think I could live with that. "Please tell me you didn't let him go off alone."

He chuckled. Of all the possible valid responses I'd been bracing for, even hoping for, he _chuckled._ "No. He's not gone off alone. Nor has he gone far enough to do any damage." With that he scooped me up into his arms and started from the room. "Come on, I'll show you."

"I can walk you know," I informed him, squirming to release myself from his grips.

"You'd like me to think that, wouldn't you?" was all he replied, setting me down in front of the window in the bedroom. "Take a look."

Another rule of human curiosity that I failed to mention earlier is that windows, gaps and holes are to be looked through, so it's no surprise that I gave into the urge and stepped closer to the window to peer out. It took me a moment to find what I was supposed to be looking at, but once I did I was torn between laughter and concern. There, in the back corner of the lot where the dumpster lived, were three dark figures. Two were simply standing there, relaxed by all appearances, but the third, which I somehow knew to be Ranger, even without the aid of distinguishing features, was kicking the crap out of the poor industrial bin. The racket that drifted up to me made me wonder how he hadn't broken his foot yet. He was certainly kicking hard enough, and I knew from experience that the dumpster was a formidable opponent.

"What's he doing?" I asked Tank, knowing he was standing right behind me without turning around.

"Calming himself down."

"How long has he been out there?" I had a feeling it had been a long time. If it had only been a short time I'm sure more of his limbs would have been in on the action, with at least one of them holding a loaded gun. I also had the feeling that he was visualising Morelli's head on the side of the dumpster.

Tank cleared his throat, probably deciding whether or not to tell me the truth. "Almost an hour. He should be almost done."

I nodded, my suspicions affirmed. "I slept through the gunshots?" I turned away from the window, not wanting to see anymore of this side of Ranger.

His Adam's apple bobbed with a gulp. "You hit your head pretty hard," he informed me. "I should take a look at it." Without waiting for my reply or consent, he moved me to sit on the bed and began to submerge his fingers in the hair at the back of my head, pressing on all the lumps and bumps he found, asking if it hurt.

"Doesn't Bobby usually do this kind of thing?" I finally asked on a sigh, having gotten bored when Tank couldn't find the tender spot.

"He's with Ranger."

"That's probably a good – OW!" I yelped when his fingers pressed down on lump or bump that felt as if it were punching me in the head. Funny how I hadn't noticed it's assault before.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, poking the spot again.

"OW! YES, IT BLOODY WELL HURTS! AND YOU NEVER ANSWERED MY QUESTION!"

"What question?" he asked, poking the lump again.

I was gonna kill him. I don't know how, but I was gonna do it one way or another. "Did I sleep through the gunshots?" I asked, gritting my teeth against the pain.

"Ah..." he paused in his prodding, giving me a momentary reprieve, but continued again before he spoke. "No, the gunshots woke you up, but when I explained about what was happening you went down again."

_Review if you want to find out how she deals with the situation._


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay, we're nearing the end now. Just one or two more chapters... Thanks for the reviews, your curiosity is truly a driving force. _

**Chapter 4**

I sat in the chair Tank pulled up to the window and watched as Ranger tired himself out. I thought he would have been almost done earlier when Tank showed me, but it had been another forty-five minutes and he was still going. Tank was sitting on the floor beside me, leaning against the wall, whittling, of all things. _Where on earth did he get the wood to whittle without leaving my sight?_ There were wood shavings all over the floor now, and I didn't care what anyone said, I wasn't cleaning it up.

"I'm not cleaning that up," I told Tank, taking my eyes briefly off the insane man battling the industrial bin in the parking lot. "Where'd you get the wood anyway?"

"Back pocket," he informed me, as if it were a perfectly reasonable explanation. "I always keep a spare piece of wood close by in case I have to wait something out."

"Like a Ranger tantrum?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

"You'd be surprised how often he gets into fights with dumpsters." He shrugged.

I thought about that for a moment. This was the first time I'd seen a Ranger-Dumpster fight, then again, there were a lot of things I'd never seen before when it came to Ranger, like a grown man pulling off a ponytail. "He doesn't fight with dumpsters the same way I do though, you have to admit that."

"Bombshell, I don't think anyone fights with dumpsters the way you do," Lester said from the doorway, causing me to start. Tank was completely unaffected by the sudden announcement of his arrival. "And thank God for that too." He moved into the room and sat down on my bed. "I don't think there's enough shampoo in the world to serve more than just one person fighting with dumpsters from the inside."

I slapped my palm to my forehead in a sudden "duh" moment. "_That's_ what I've been doing wrong all these years!"

The guys laughed at that, but I tuned them out. I had already returned my attention to the group in the back corner of the lot. Why was he so worked up? Stupid question. I think... He was worked up because Joe had proposed at the same time he had... right? _Oh my god_, I just had two people propose to me at the same time.

And now the world was going fuzzy around the edges again.

"Um... Tank?" I gripped the window sill in front of me, hoping it would save me from toppling over. "I don't mean to alarm you, but-."

"What? What's he done?" Lester was suddenly directly behind me, craning to see what he thought I was looking at. "I can't see anything alarming, Bomber."

"That's because the alarming thing is the amount of sway Steph is doing you nimrod," Tank said from beside me. I had closed my eyes, fighting the urge to fall out of my chair. I had and all too familiar queasiness in my stomach that I was trying to ignore, because no matter how good something tastes on the way down, it tastes infinitely worse coming back up. "Come on girlie, let's get you away from hard edges and big drops." I felt hands on my elbows, and allowed myself to be dragged to the floor. After some deep breathing I managed to talk myself into opening my eyes again, and was met with two looming faces. I immediately squeezed them shut again.

"Talk to me beautiful," Lester encouraged. "What just happened?"

"I caught myself off guard," I replied, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. "I wasn't ready for a thought that ran through my head." That's when it hit me. I had questioned Ranger's reaction in all of this, but I hadn't even spared a thought for Joe. How was Joe handling this? "Um, how is Joe handling all this?" The silence that followed my question wasn't encouraging at all. Silence, as far as I'm concerned, is never encouraging. This particular silence scared the crap out of me. "Give it to me straight, guys. I can take it."

Lester was the first to break the resumed silence. "He's... distracted at the moment, Bomber."

That had me bolt upright before I had registered the words. "What did you do to him?" I watched as the guys belatedly jumped, then trained my gaze on their expressionless expressions. I wouldn't be able to tell much from it, but it kept me from swaying again as I considered the possibilities.

"He's unharmed," Tank assured me, placing a hand on my shoulder to steady me. "We merely called in an anonymous tip on a murder we happen to know he's heading the investigation for."

"A phoney tip," Lester added unnecessarily. "Right now, I suspect he's knee deep in mud somewhere in the Pine Barrens."

"If we're lucky he'll stumble upon some monkeys," Tank grinned.

"If he's lucky that's all he'll stumble upon," Ranger said from the doorway behind me. "He's got some nerve."

I summoned enough balance to spin myself around on my bottom so that I was facing him. "_He's_ got some nerve?" I asked, incredulous. "The man I'm dating has some nerve to propose to me?" _Christ, he plucked up the guts to propose to me._ "What about you?" I asked, surging to my feet to look him directly in the eye. "Where do you get off?"

"Get off what, Babe?" he asked, and I was shocked to find a slightly confused expression creeping into his features.

"You've never even taken me on a date. Never even _suggested_ taking me on a date. You clearly stated that your life doesn't lend itself to relationships. And yet you see fit to ask me to marry you out of the blue? That's what you get off."

More silence. I was going to drown in silence before I died.

"Um..." I finally heard from behind me. Lester, it seemed, had worked up the courage to utter that simple sound, but couldn't take it any further. Tank coughed awkwardly, and I turned to look at him. There was an actual expression on his face, but I couldn't place it.

"What are you talking about?" Ranger finally asked, drawing my attention back to his blank face.

"You... you... marry... asked..." I stuttered.

Now he was looking amused. It wasn't often such an expression, or any expression for that matter, crossed his face. Unfortunately for me, it seemed I was the only one capable of producing it, and never when I intended to. "I didn't ask you to marry me, Babe," he laughed, shaking his head. I was vaguely aware of Lester and Tank letting out puffs of air they had apparently been holding. "I know you're with the cop. I wouldn't jeopardise that for you."

A sharp, harsh bark of laughter escaped me, but I'm not sure why. "I suppose you're going to tell me I misheard what you said now?" I asked, not able to control my disbelief.

"Actually, Babe -."

"What can possibly rhyme with 'will you marry me' and then lend itself to be converted into 'marry me, Babe,'?" I demanded, ashamed to admit that I stamped my foot for emphasis.

"Will you be tarry free? Tarry free, Babe." He said it with a straight face, but I could sense the laughter just below the surface. He was taking the Mickey out of me. What did tarry mean anyway?

"Really?"

"Yeah, Bomber. That's what he said."

"Then why were you beating up the dumpster? Why were you angry?"

"Babe." One word. It didn't exactly answer my questions, but at least it wasn't more silence.

"What?"

"How many of you friends have bragged about the romantic way their fiancés proposed and then gone on to explain that it was over the phone?"

He had a point. "None."

He nodded as if that's what he suspected, which, I suppose, he did. I moved to sit on the bed, exhausted now that I wasn't angry at him, and he sat down beside me placing the little box on my knee. "You might want to wait until Morelli gets back from the Pine Barrens and has showered before you open that. And get him to repeat his reason for calling earlier. It'll be more memorable that way."

With a quick kiss on my forehead, he stood and was out the door again before I had time to look up. Tank and Lester each gave me a departing hug, complete with reassuring squeeze and said their goodnights.

I was alone in my apartment again; Curious about the item in the mystery box, but content to wait until to find out. I set the box on my nightstand , changed and crawled into bed before dialling Joe's cell. Not surprisingly, he was out of range, so I left a message for him to come by when he got back.

_Keep watching this space for another update soon. Don't forget to review while you wait._


	5. Chapter 5

_It's only short, but it was meant to be that way. There's only one update left (I think, it depends on how well my idea works out). Read away._

**Chapter 5**

When next I awoke it was to a soft glow that trickled in from the bathroom light I habitually left on. The hall beyond the open bedroom door was pitch black, just as it should be, but something felt off. I lay utterly still for a moment, holding my breath to better listen to the silence around me. It was just that. Silence. No ticking clock. No breathing stalker. No menacing footsteps. Just silence. I glanced at the glowing green numbers of the clock on my bedside table. 4.48 am.

With a sigh, I rolled over and willed myself to go back to sleep. My ears, however, seemed to have other plans. I had just settled on my left side, facing the expanse of empty bed, when there was a rustle directly behind me. My spine stiffened and I held my breath again, listening for any other sign of life. I was just about to give up again when I heard what must have been a small breath of air leaving someone's lungs.

Trying to relax my body a little, I rolled over, attempting a natural, mid-sleep movement. I'd just made it onto my back when I heard an oddly familiar chuckle.

"You caught me," said the male voice. "Took you long enough."

My hand shot out and switched the lamp on, revealing my intruder in all his grinning, dimpled gorgeousness. "Diesel," I said on a whoosh of air. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His grin widened and he stuck his hands in his pockets. "The way you just said my name sounded real sexy, sweetheart. You got room in that bed for another body?" I glared and he got the message. "Don't worry; I'm not here to enlist your help... This time. I'm just leaving you a note." He held up a piece of paper, folded in half, presumably with the message on the inside.

"I've been getting a lot of notes lately," I informed him suspiciously. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about them would you?" He looked thoughtful for a moment and I knew it was all an act. "Hand over the note, Diesel."

He obviously knew when not to play games, because he handed it over immediately and took one giant step back.

_It's been fun, but I gotta run.  
Tell you're fiancé he owes me  
Three meatball subs,  
A bucket of chicken,  
And a supersized coke._

_See you next holiday.  
Diesel_

"It was you?" I asked, unnecessarily. Who else would have managed to get the notes in on a single blink?

Diesel nodded. "Yeppers."

"And your price for it all is three meatball subs, a bucket of chicken, and a supersized coke?"

Another nod. "I gave him mates rates. Usually there's a large pizza, two hookers and season tickets to the Rangers involved as well."

"What happened to Annie?" I asked. "Doesn't she normally do the love stuff?"

"This isn't love stuff, Potato-Pie. This is a marriage proposal and a personal favour I've been avoiding repaying."

"You owed Morelli a favour?" That just didn't add up.

"Sure."

Before I could ask anything else, he had popped out of my life once again. I don't think I will ever get used to that. Ever.

#

Light was streaming in from the window, straight in my eyes. I could smell bacon and the radio was blasting out the morning news. For a moment I thought I'd travelled back in time to my teenage years and replaced my bickering family with the too loud radio announcer, then I saw Joe standing in the doorway to the rest of the apartment, clean and shaved and looking _hot_.

"Morning, Cupcake," he greeted. "I trust you slept well."

I nodded and pulled myself into a sitting position. "Is that bacon for me?"

"It will be in a minute," he informed me, kneeling down by the bed. I watched as he smoothed the covers a bit before taking my hand and looking me directly in the eye. His gaze was penetrating and compelling. I was lost. "I realise that I made a mistake last night, Cupcake. I shouldn't have gone about things the way I did. So I just wanted to ask you again. Will you marry me?"

The lump in my throat prevented me from voicing my answer, even though I'd know what was coming, but I managed to get my point across. I flung my arms around his neck and hugged him to me.

He chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."

Pulling back for a mere moment, I looked him in the eye. "Damn skippy, you will."

_Don't for get to review and let me know what you think._


	6. Epilogue

_The second twist is always the one you never ever see coming. Thus, we have this final little tid bit. An insight into why "tarry free" seemed like such a strange thing for Ranger to say. Sorry if it leaves you with more questions, but sometimes that's the best thing to do. Enjoy._

**Epilogue**

Ranger plonked down into his desk chair and laid his head in his hands, trying to hide from the world that had suddenly gone horribly, horribly wrong. How could he have been so stupid? Of all the things to do, knowing what he knew... He just couldn't bring himself to think on it anymore. One night of self indulgent moping was more than enough for a man of his stature. He moved to the side so that he was directly in line with his computer and began to go through the weekly reports. Tank entered not long after and leaned against the other side of the desk, facing the room at large. His arms were folded across his broad chest and he looked like he was fresh from his morning run.

"That was a nice save last night," he commented, not daring to look over his shoulder. "I think you got off scot free."

"Thank you for reminding me," Ranger grumbled, tapping harder than necessary on the keys.

"Why'd you do it man?" Tank asked, ignoring his boss's obvious disdain for the subject at hand. "You knew that she was getting serious with the cop. Why'd you set yourself up for the fall? It's not like you."

"I had to try."

"I get that, but, why not just talk to her. You know she'd do almost anything for you."

"Exactly," Ranger said, resisting the urge to throw the computer at his second in command. "She'd do _almost_ anything for me."

Tank chuckled. "If you let her into your life a bit more she probably would have done a lot more for you." They were silent for a moment while Ranger continued his reports and Tank stood there in thought. " You seriously only proposed because you had to try?"

A sigh of frustration escaped Ranger. He really wished Tank would drop the subject, but apparently he was intent on humiliating Ranger even more than he already was. "I was curious as to what her reaction would be if I asked."

"She fainted," Tank noted, like it was a piece of information he didn't have already.

"I'm aware of that," Ranger gritted out angrily. "I was there if you recall."

"I know man, but I don't think you get what's happening here." Tank finally turned around and laid his hands flat on the desk to lean in to Ranger's face. "You're gonna let her go marry the cop without ever knowing how much you really love her. Sure you've told her you love her with conditions attached, but I know and you know, that you love her much more than the conditions imply."

"She'd never accept my love anyway, Tank, just leave me to wallow in peace."

"Wallow in peace?" said a new voice from the doorway. Both men jumped, taken completely by surprise for the first time in years. "That sounds like fun."

"Diesel," Tank said with a curt nod, brushing past his shoulder on his way out the door.

Diesel watched him go with an amuse smile. "Guess he still isn't over the past," he shrugged, collapsing, totally at ease, into the arm chair by the desk. "So wears the food I ordered? I'm feeling a little peckish."

Ranger groaned. "It's not even nine in the morning. I can't believe you eat that stuff." He shuddered but put a call through to Ella. She was the only one he would even contemplate asking to get the food stuffs Diesel required. "Twenty minutes," Ranger informed him when he disconnected.

With a content sigh, Diesel propped his dusty boots on the desk and leaned back in the chair. "So I hear you chickened out."

"I didn't chicken out," Ranger gritted. "I decided she was better off with the cop."

"Again," Diesel added. "You know, if you'd just let me say when a little earlier you could have been the one spending a happily ever after with Steph."

"I'm well aware of that," Ranger replied, staring blankly at his computer screen. He was kicking himself. He should have gotten in earlier. He should have done things differently. He should have...

"You should have told her what you really asked before she fainted, instead of pulling that Tarry Free shit. What was with that anyway?"

"Have you ever tried to rhyme 'marry me'? It's a lot harder than it looks." Diesel gave him a 'yeah right' look and crossed one ankle over the other. "It is."

"Uh huh," Diesel replied. "And what exactly does tarry mean?"

"To delay or be tardy in acting or doing," Ranger recited. He'd looked it up first thing when he got home last night and memorised the definition in case one of his men happened to ask.

A thoughtful nod met this statement and there was silence for several moments. "You should tell Steph that you were behind the box, not that Morelli guy. Personally, I don't think it's even believable that Morelli would pull something like that off. He's not smart enough."

"She must never know," Ranger seethed. "It would only send her life into unnecessary upheaval. I don't want to cause her more pain than is necessary."

"Alright, but I'll speaking with Annie, 'cause she really thought that you'd be the one to win her heart. She's not going to be happy. She's never wrong about these things. If Steph-."

"I don't want to hear it, Diesel. You've repaid your debt, now you can get out of my office. Wait for your payment in the lobby, then get the hell out. And don't ever mention this to Steph."

"I'll leave, but there's only so long I can hold onto a secret before it all comes spilling out at an inopportune time. At the wedding perhaps, or maybe the engagement party. You just never know how long I'll last."

**End**

_Not the ending you expected? Well, you just don't know my work well enough. Where there's one twist there's often two or three. Keep that in mind._

_Thank you all for reading. It's been a pleasure keeping you intrigued. Please don't forget to review._

_Bec_


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